
























^ 



















































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THE STANZAS OF 
OMAR KHAYYAM 



u 



Omar Khayyam, in life's calm eventide, 
Pacing his garden paths at height of June 
With one whose youth shone like the rising moon, 
Murmured these words : '* c when earth on either side 
Shall clasp this breathing clay, the Potter's pride ; 
When all these songs are silenced, soon, too soon ; 
Then shall red ^Rose-leaves morning, night, and noon, 
'Blown by North winds, the dust of Omar hide/' 
Listened the youth, and wondered : yet being sure 
No wise man's words like snowflakes melt in vain, 
cAfter long years, with eld's slow steps, again 
Turning to Omar's home in Naishapur, 
He sought that tomb, but found, by wild winds blown, 
Drift of red c Rpse4eaves, deep on a hidden stone* 

John cAddington Symonds. 



Tomb of Omar Khayyam at Naishapur, 



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translated from the 
Persian £j*John Leslie Garner 

jecond edition with Intro- 
duction AND NOTE** 



MDCCCXCVmCPublished by 

HtNKYT COATES AND COMPANY 

Thiladetphia 






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COPYRIGHT, i8g7 
BY JOHN LESLIE GARNER 



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INTRODUCTION 



1 


if TH 



STUDY, 



HY, old fellow, this endeavor, 
Oil at midnight wasting ever, 
Spending weeks and months in learning 
What an A is, what a B is, 
What a C, D, F or G is, 

Till thy brain is racked and turning? 

Philosophic, empty dreaming ! 
Though thy skull with wit be teeming, 

Prithee, tell me what the gain ! 
Seekest thou the thought to banish, 
From this world thou, too, must vanish, 

Like the simplest rattlebrain ? 

All this nonsense from thee throwing, 
Seek the vault where wine is flowing, 

Whence it calls in accents cheery, 
That 'twill teach the mode of quaffing, 
Gayly mid thy comrades laughing, 

Driving way thy learning dreary ! 



This alone is worth the knowing, 
All the rest is fruitless sowing, 

That there is no harvest shows it; 
Grammar is but wretched lumber, 
Metaphysics makes one slumber, 

Here, professor, prosit, prosit ! 

— From the Modern Greek of Christdpulos. 



<«%> 




INTRODUCTION. 



NE day Bahram Gur, seated at the feet of 
his mistress, the fair Dil Aram, confessed 
to her his love* Fortunately she yielded 
to the eloquence of "that great hunter"; 
their hearts beat as one, and in the vows which they 
exchanged, their words fell in such perfect unison that 
rhyme and rhythm resulted, and verse was born in Iran* 
Graceful though this legend be, its truth is some- 
what impaired by the fact that Persia, then in its deca- 
dence, had already enjoyed several centuries of poetry, 
the triumphant train of Alexander the Great, seven 
hundred years before the time of Bahram Gur, having 
heard the bards of Susa singing the loves of Zariares 
and Odatis* 

The years succeeding the reign of this royal wooer — 
with the exception of the period of the caliphate — were 
made melodious by innumerable songsters, many of 
whom were, and still are, far more famous in the Orient 
than the algebraist, Ghias uddin Abul Fath Omar bin 
Ibrahim, known as Khayyam, who was born early in 
the eleventh century at Nishapur, a small town in the 
province of Khorasan, now well-nigh forgotten, but 
then of no little importance* 



INTRODUCTION 

The details of his life which have come down to us 
are exceedingly meager, but such as they are, tradition 
has left them entirely unadorned; we are not told that 
his boyhood — which was passed in the monotony of his 
native village — yielded any premonition of the distinc- 
tion which awaited him* 

He completed his studies in the year J 042 at the 
madrasah of Nishapur, an institution celebrated for the 
number of famous men who had there received their 
education* The oft-told tale of his friendship with the 
notorious Hasan Sabah and Nizam-ul-Mulk, wazir of 
Alp Arslan and Malik Shah, need not be repeated here; 
suffice it to say that, as the result of a boyish compact 
into which they entered, Omar was eventually made 
chief of the town in which he was born* 

Living quietly at Nishapur, he pursued his favorite 
studies, mathematics, metaphysics and poetry, and 
became an astronomer, a philosopher, a fatalist and, — 
a poet* 

Following the custom of Persian rhymsters, he 
adopted a takhallus or lyronym, choosing that of 
Khayyam, a name suggested by the trade of his father, 
who was a tentmaker* His countrymen assure us that 
it was his extreme modesty which prevented him from 
assuming a more pretentious pseudonym — the Oriental 
poets, as a rule, being no less diffident than their fellows, 
thus: Firdusi, the "Celestial % n Hafiz, the "Preserver;" 
Saadi, the "Felicitous*" 



INTRODUCTION 

The^chroniclers relate that Omar was in the habit 
of spending the evening on the terrace before his house, 
in the company of his friends and surrounded by mu- 
sicians, while the saki, or cup-bearer, passed in and out 
among them, presenting the honeyed wine in turn to all 
the guests, a custom which still obtains in the Orient* 

He seems to have passed through those days with 
utter indolence and indifference; places of honor were 
offered him by the government, but he preferred to 
dream away his life in a search for some rhyme for the 
reason of things, although he seems to have been en- 
tirely conscious of the futility of his endeavors* 

His death occurred in the year 1123 of the 
Christian era* 

The various manuscripts extant contain more than 
twelve hundred quatrains ascribed to Omar; in this 
number, however, there is constant repetition of ideas 
expressed in slightly modified diction* It is probable 
that many rubaiyat have been introduced into the later 
manuscripts by over-zealous copyists unable to accept 
Omar's philosophy, and it is quite likely that some 
stanzas, which were scribbled by readers on the margins 
of their copies, afterwards became incorporated in the 
text; the latter supposition is supported by the fact that 
frequently contradictory quatrains are found on the 
same page* Skepticism, however, is exceedingly capri- 
cious, and few philosophers are consistent; it is, there- 



INTRODUCTION 

iotCf impossible to determine how many of the rubaiyat 
are rightly to be ascribed to the Tentmaker* 

The ruba'i, a metrical form in great favor in the 
East, seems peculiarly suited to Omar's themes* In the 
original the first, second and fourth lines rhyme — all 
four verses, however, may do so — and twenty-four dif- 
ferent meters are in use* The first three lines of the 
ruba'i serve to introduce the subject, while the last, Mirza 
Saib tells us, "is the line that drives the nail through the 
heart*" Abu Said, Nasir Ali, Jami, Khakani, Hafiz, 
in short, all the famous Iranian poets have left collec- 
tions of rubaiyat* 

To dispel the perplexity which arose in the minds 
of some, the title of the first edition of this little book, 
which was "Strophes of Omar Khayyam," has been 
changed to "Stanzas of Omar Khayyam/* No very 
profound knowledge of the Greek drama is necessary to 
show that rubaiyat are not strophes in the technical 
sense of the word, and it, therefore, seems almost super- 
fluous to state here that the term was used simply as a 
substitute for rhymes, verses, quatrains, — as it was doubt- 
less employed by Count Shack in his beautiful Strophen 
des Omar Chijam. 

Verse unquestionably is the only vehicle in which 
Omar would appeal to the general reader, and the 
stanza, which Fitzgerald has made immortal, seems the 
fittest to reproduce the tormenting strain of doubt and 

SO 



INTRODUCTION 

despair which the Old Tentmaker so persistently 
thrummed; whoever ventures to use this form, how- 
ever, must know that his work may incur the danger of 
a comparsion with the most beautiful quatrains in the 
English language; still, a translation which closely 
follows the letter of the original may find its apologia pro 
vita sua in the belief that it may in a measure show 
how much more is due the Briton than the Persian* 

Fitzgerald doubtless set himself the task, not of 
literally reproducing the original, but of creating a work 
of art, of awakening in his hearers thoughts and feelings 
similar to those aroused by the Tentmaker in his 
audience; and, allowing for the difference in time and 
place, he has given us the real Omar, for he has touched 
in the spirit of the nineteenth century, no less surely 
than did Omar in the eleventh, the chords of hope and 
despair, of faith and fear, of reason and revolt* 

Of a poem remote in both time and place, only a 
paraphrase can meet the modern standards of criticism 
and be in itself a work of art, which a translation, in 
the strict meaning of the word, can never be, although 
it too may have its uses* 

It is difficult to decide what was Omar's real 
philosophy* Creeds, however, are merely moods of 
longer or shorter duration; the materialist of yesterday 
is the spiritualist of to-day, and to-morrow he may find 
relief in mysticism* 

U 



INTRODUCTION 

The Tentmaker seems* to have been subject to 
periodic attacks of metaphysics with accompanying: 
changes in his beliefs, but, unfortunately, the arbitrary 
arrangement of the original, which is in accordance 
with the alphabetical order of rhymes, offers no clue to 
the chronological sequence or development of his ideas* 

It is well-nigh impossible for an occidental to accept 
the mystical interpretation of M* Nicolas, and judging 
by his notes, it seems as if he too, had grave misgivings 
regarding poor Omar's character* However, while the 
Tentmaker doubtless was human, it is not likely he was 
past redemption* He drank wine as he sang of it, and 
his morals probably were little, if at all, in advance of 
his age and country, but his vices go hand in hand with 
great virtues; throughout his rubaiyat there breathes a 
spirit of charity and toleration towards his opponents, 
and an independence in thought unusual in his time 
and in an oriental land* A skeptic regarding the creeds 
prevalent, he tore down, but he does not seem to have 
offered anything better* He recognized the limitations 
of the human intellect when struggling with the ques- 
tion of human destiny, at the same time regarding that 
destiny as implacable, a belief formulated throughout 
his writings in an eastern fatalism* 

Inasmuch as there is a vein of pantheism in his 
poems, he may be regarded as a Sufi, but his Sufism is 
not of the kind which the professors of the creed would 

M 



INTRODUCTION 

have us believe, and his wine, woman and song were 
doubtless no less real than were the material inspirations 
of Anacreon, Horace and Beranger, 

While Omar's fatalism and indifference may to 
many seem pernicious, thrusting themselves forward so 
persistently that they cannot be overlooked, the effect 
of the whole is, as Fitzgerald says, more apt to move 
sorrow than anger toward the old Tentmaker* 

Omar, in the twelfth century, belonged to that 
class of thinkers which includes the agnostic of to-day # 
Recognizing the inconsistency of the doctrines taught 
by the various Mohammedan sects, he assailed them 
with merciless ridicule; he seems to have thought that 
the value of a religion depends on its harmony, more or 
less complete, with the precepts taught by the reason 
and the facts established by science* By his contem- 
poraries he was regarded as a freethinker and a scoffer, 
and it was not until long after his death, when the 
examples furnished by his manner of living had ceased, 
that the Sufis discovered the deep spiritual meaning of 
his bacchanalian chants* That they did make this 
discovery, however, need not surprise us, for the oriental 
mind, like the oriental languages, is exceedingly subtle; 
the Sufi of the east, as an expounder of the obscure, is no 
less adroit than the theologian of the west, and when- 
ever he wishes to aggrandise his sect by enrolling among 
its members such of his countrymen as are dear to fame, 
it requires more than a volume of blasphemy to frustrate 

J3 



INTRODUCTION 

his designs* A similar fate has befallen Job and Koheleth, 
and at some distant day the utterances of Lucretius, 
Heine and even of Jean Richepin may be tortured into 
a creed for the redemption of humanity. 

"If faith be from God, it is also from him that 
reason comes," was doubtless one of the articles of his 
creed, whatever his religion may have been, for he never 
tired of attacking* the unreasonable and absurd* He felt 
a contempt for hollow ceremonial and he scorned 
hypocrisy and deceit* Clemency and generosity, not 
vengeance and wrath, were worthy of the Divine; 
infinite mercy was incompatible with the Mohammedan 
doctrine of future punishments, while infinite power was 
opposed to the more modern theory of free- will* 

Hammer speaks of him as the poet of the free- 
thinker and the scoffer, calling him the Voltaire of 
Persian literature, and he justly adds that in Iran, as 
everywhere else, freethinking was the precursor of 
mysticism* 

The shortness and uncertainty of life and the 
instability of earthly affairs were ever in his thoughts* 
His appreciation of the unavoidable separation from 
things mundane and the fewness of his wants led him 
to disregard wealth and honors* Frequently a vein of 
pessimism crops out in his writings, but it is of a healthy, 
aggressive sort, very different from the article which 
the pseudo-pessimists of to-day in their solemn seasons 
of reflection upon their individual ills are wont to style 

J4 



INTRODUCTION 

44 troth/* Omar was a forerunner of Schopenhauer 
rather than of LeopardL Although generally resolute 
and defiant, he is sometimes despondent, but his epi- 
cureanism prevented his despair from reaching the pitch 
of the Italian's wail : — 

— Or poser ai per sempre, 
Stanco mio cor* Peri l'inganno estremo 
Ch' eterno to mi credei* 

The great charm of the rubaiyat is their note of 
evanescence, constantly heard above the poet's injunc- 
tions to eat, drink and be merry; so persistently and so 
insinuatingly does it sound that the listener is almost 
led to believe that the poet's bacchanalian bravado was 
assumed to conceal his sensibilities from the brutality of 
the world* 

Omar has a marvellous power of arousing certain 
ideas in the mind by means of material imagery* 
His suggestiveness is more profound than that of the 
purely objective poet, who with one or two deft touches 
presents the perfect picture to the imagination, — a picture 
sufficient in itself* In the rubaiyat, however beautiful 
and striking the imagery may be, it is always the 
intellectual element that prevails* For example in 
Fitzgerald's : — 

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep 
The courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep ; 
And Bahram, that great Hunter — the "Wild Ass 
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep* 

15 



INTRODUCTION 

ft is not the suggested magnificence of the palace of 
the old reveller, nor the vision of ruin and desolation 
which holds the f ancy, but it is the idea of the mutability, 
decay and death of all things earthly that haunts the 
mind of the reader* 

The selections which follow might have been made 
much more numerous, but it was deemed inadvisable, as 
Omar's themes are not many, and the ever-recurring 
wine, rose and nightingale are somewhat cloying to 
occidental senses* 

The great questions of human life are of all times 
and of all places, and although Omar never tired of 
struggling with them, he discovered nothing new* At 
last, feeling that death alone was certain, he resigned the 
task in despair, exclaiming to his pupil Nizami: "I shall 
soon be buried where the north wind will strew roses 
over my grave," and Nizami wondered greatly at the 
words, for in the Koran it is written that no man knows 
where he shall be buried ; but a few years later, return- 
ing to Nishapur to visit the last resting-place of his 
master, he found it close beside a garden wall, and he 
saw that the blossoms had fallen from the spreading 
branches and completely hidden the tomb from view* 



16 



UrJsJ 



THE CUR 

HENE'ER I hear the gurgling flask, 
Gladly on life my fancy lingers; 
When I behold the strong-hooped cask, 
Fate, in thy face I snap my fingers* 

Art thou surprised, then, when I say : 

Only to Bacchus, god of wine, 
Only to Bacchus will I pray, 

He only shall my heart divine ? 

Glowing with wine and glad with song, 
Mocking the world, I loudly laugh; 

Thou art the one that rights all wrong, — 
Fill up the cup and bravely quaff ! 

Wine, thou has taught me, sorrow-laden, 

Grief to give o'er, hope to renew, 
The wiles to withstand of the maiden, 

Fair as the rose bedecked with dew* 

So, at the last, when Death shall call, 
Bidding me haste his steps to follow, 

Ere in thy arms, O Grave, I fall, 

Boldly Fll ask for one more swallow* 

— From the Hungarian of Petofi. 
17 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






I 



[HE herald of the morn, in lusty tone, 

Loud greets the dawn upon her golden throne, 



Again proclaiming to a slumbering world : 
Another night beyond recall has flown* 

The Sun has cast about the city towers 

A noose of light ; Kai-Kosru-like 1 he showers 

His wine in morning's cup, — but hark, a voice 
Cries out and bids us seize the truant hours* 

Arise 1 the sunlight in the tent is creeping ; 

The drowsy soon will fall to death's sure reaping ; 
Attune thy harp and fill a brimming measure, — 
Not one will e'er return of all the sleeping. 

In adoration at the wine jar's lip 

We learn the lesson of good-fellowship ; 

The moments we have lost in fruitless prayer 
We quickly find again when wine we sip* 

18 






THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



The cup I prize above the realms of Tus, 
The crown of Kobad, or the throne of Kaius; 
A lover's matin sigh is much more worth 
Than all the khajahV sobs and groans profuse* 

Where minstrels sing and goblets clink I dwell, 
My clothes, my heart, my soul for wine I sell; 
Sorrow and wrinkled care I banish far 
Together with all thoughts of heaven and hell. 

Since Venus and the Moon have ruled the sky 
Naught have men seen with purple wine to vie* 
What half so precious as this sparkling juice 
Can these same thoughtless vintners for it buy? 3 

A book, a flask of wine, a crust of bread, 
To every care and worldly sorrow dead, 

I covet not when thou, oh, Love, art near, 
The jeweled turban on the sultan's head* 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



'Mid joyful dancers, and with wine and song, 
Upon this mossy bank the whole day long, 
I ask for nothing more, to think of hell, 
Or e'en of heaven, would be, methinks, a wrong* 

Gladly our souls we sacrifice to wine, 
The fair and radiant daughter of the vine, 4 
Yes, saki, stand thou ready with the flask 
And to my lip the flowing cup incline* 

When I am dead, my body wash with wine, 

Sing o'er my tomb a lyric of the vine, 

And when the day of resurrection dawns, 
Commingled with the tavern's dust, seek mine* 

'Tis said there is a place where houris throng, 5 
Where we shall drink, and list to lute and song; 
If Paradise such pleasures holds for us, 
To love the like on earth, in what the wrong? 

20 






. 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






Come, fill the cup and quaff the great nepenthe, 
Most precious gift of all the gods have sent thee, 
Make haste, for nevermore shalt thou recover 
The fleeting moments which the Fates have lent thee* 

The month of Ramazan 6 has passed away, 
And Shawwal comes with joy to lord the day, 

The vintner bent beneath the wine-skin's weight, 

Lustily sings upon his errand gay* 

Such homage to the cup I e'er will pay 
That when my body in the ground they lay, 
The odor of my wine will overcome 
All those who happen by my tomb to stray* 

Ah, loved one, when the laughing spring is blowing, 
With thee beside me and the cup overflowing, 

I pass the day upon this fragrant meadow, [ing. 
And dream the while, no thought on heaven bestow- 

21 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Our life will end, it flies on foot amain ; 

What boots it whether passed in joy or pain 

At Balk or Nishapur ? 7 Come, fill your cup — 
We die, but still the moon will wax and wane* 

Oh, might the vintage time forever last 1 
The month of Ramazan not yet has passed, 
But while a jar of wine remains to us, — 
What, thinkest thou that we will keep the fast ? 

To Wisdom's Daughter I was one time wed, 
Thereafter fruitless Dogma shared my bed, 

Her, too, I have divorced now from my roof, 
And ta'en the Daughter of the Vine instead, 

Fill up the wreathed cup, and from the creed 
Of all the two and seventy sects be freed, 8 
And to the riddle of futurity 
The answer in the flowing goblet read* 

22 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



The morn when from the eve's carouse I die 

I will not sue for mercy from the sky, 

Yes, love, to thee and wine I e'er shall turn, — 
Though sinner, heaven and hell I will defy* 

Soon from the book of life our names will fade, 
And in the arms of Death we shall be laid, 
A little while and we shall turn to dust, — 
Come, boy, my glass fill up, be not dismayed I 

The Koran's word, oft called "the word sublime," 
Is seldom read, and not in every clime ; 
But on the goblet's rim there is a verse 
Men read in every place and through all time* 9 

So bring the juice whose dusky color vies 
With graceful houris' deep unfathomed eyes, 

And which, like chain with links of iron, holds 
Within its strong embrace both fools and wise* 

23 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



One morn, while sitting by the tavern door, 
I heard a voice in accents mild implore :— 
44 Come, fill another cup with ruddy wine, 
Make haste, the cup of life will soon run o'er," 

A song in praise of wine and rose I sing, 
For these alone a moment's peace can bring ; 

When dead — the bricks that from my clay are baked 
May patch the palace wall of some great king. 

Yes, bid the saki fill the brimming measure ; 

Fear not to make thy God the God of Pleasure ! 
For when thy clay beneath the turf is laid, 
'Twill ne'er be sought as some long buried treasure. 

Oh, would that I might leave this wrangling mad 
About the Great, the Small, the Good, the Bad, 
And with the Daughter of the Vine for bride, 
Might idly dream away the springtime glad 1 






24 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






How long, O saki, shall we ponder o'er 
These fruitless arguments of Five and Four? 10 
Come, boy, attune thy harp, we all are dust, 
A breath of wind, — come, fill one goblet more. 

Cast off the shackles of the soul, for soon 

We leave this world where wine the richest boon 

Of mortals is ; a single draught is much more worth 
Than all that lies betwixt the Fish and Moon. 11 

Oh, that my face the radiance of this wine 
Might borrow, and when dead this clay of mine, — 
I pray thee wash it with the fragrant juice, 
Then weave my shroud of tendrils of the vine. 

Life's caravan unheeded glides away, 
And barren hopes alone remain, — but nay, — 
Fear not the pain the future has in store, 
But drink, — upon us steals the twilight gray. 






25 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Whene'er a mead of mellow wine I hold. 
My soul seems lost within the cup of gold, 
And for a time from earthly bondage freed. 
All nature's secrets to my mind unfold* 

Yes, saki, Time will soon us both overthrow, 
From this world's tattered tent we then must go ; 
But when a cup of wine is in my hand, 
I bid farewell to all this mundane woe. 

Come, fill thy cup, the Sun is high, 
Attune thy harp, asleep thou shouldst not lie ; 
The swift and sure return of Tyr and Dai 
Has crushed a thousand kings like Jam and Kai* 12 

And when beneath the sod my dust is laid, 

And name and memory to a fable fade, 

Ah, brother mine, I beg that thou wilt see 
That bowls for drinking from my clay are made. 

26 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



So grind my dust, when dead, with might and main, 
And that my loss may be my fellows' gain* 

Just take my dust, and knead with wine a jar 
That sometime shall that selfsame wine contain* 

While on this little earth you humbly crawl, 
Drink wine, the past you never can recall ; 
Since ruin soon will overspread its face. 
In wine be you too ruined once for alL 

So, friend, while joy and youth my life adorn, 
This purple wine Ffl drink from night to morn ; 
Ah, do not curse this pain-annulling juice, — 
You know 'tis all that cheers our life forlorn* 

Awake I and for my soul's relief, I pray 
That you will tear the veil of Fate away, — 

Quick, bring a cup, and let us drink the wine 
Ere Fate shall make a goblet of our clay* 

27 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Yes, friend, within the tavern thou shouldst dwell, 

Forever lost in wine, for who can tell 

The anguish that our sober moments fills,— 
But when enslaved by wine, — ah well, — ah well 1 



<4& 



28 



IL 

Lovely is youth, though fleeting and flying, — 
Wouldst thou the gladness of living taste ? 

Seize thou the moment transient and dying, 
The morn is uncertain and soon effaced* 



— Lorenzo de' Medici. 



29 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




ggjNOW white like Moses' hand the branches grow, 
While clouds rain tears upon the earth below; 
The tender buds revived by Jesus' breath, 
Upon the air their subtile fragrance throw* 13 

Ah, sweetheart, sweetheart, fill the crystal glass, 
Though houris bright in heaven can not surpass 
Thy loveliness, — but one short day or two, 
And fairest, thou wilt be but dust, alas 1 

The moonlight tears the robe of Night in twain, 
Henceforth such moments wilt thou seek in vain ; 

When we are gone the Moon will still be bright, — 
So fill thy cup and all its sweetness drain* 

And since the future's riddles none can guess, 
Come, fill the cup, the cup that drowns distress, 
Ah, love, yon Moon will often rise again, 
Will rise and miss us in her loneliness* 

30 



WE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



No, from the future, hope thou ne'er shouldst borrow; 

The very thought would fill thy soul with sorrow; 
Lose not the present moment in repining — 
For 'tis not known that we shall see the morrow. 

A day or two, our sorrows will be o'er, — 

A little while and then a parting sore,— 

But come and taste the Dawn's sweet breath, 
How oft will Dawn respire, and we no more I 

Ah, would there were a haven free from care, 
And that our weary road might lead us there, 
And after many years we might bloom forth 
Again as bud in spring the roses fair I 



31 



IIL 

To be gnawed out of our graves, to have our skulls 
made drinking bowls, and our bones turned into pipes to 
delight and sport our enemies, are tragical abominations* 



— T. Browne. 



32 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



KB 

5« 




£5S 



F friends of mine you are, give o'er this brawl, 
Come, fill your cups, and when fair Death shall 
I pray you take my clay and mould a brick [call, 
To stop the hole that mars the tavern wall* 14 

Last night I broke my cup against a stone, 

An act of madness I must e'er bemoan, 

For "knowest thou not that I was once a man?" 
The fragments asked me in reproachful tone* 

A sighing bit of breathing clay, this vase 
Once humbly bowed before a woman's face ; 
This earthen handle fixed about its neck 
Did oft in love a cypress form embrace* 

I chanced a potter at his work to greet 
While heads and handles for his vessels neat 
Upon his swiftly turning wheel he shaped 
From mouldering pates of kings and beggars' feet* 

33 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



The potter heeds no silent tongue's appeal ; 

His hands no tender mercy ever feel, 

Though 'tis Feridun's heart, Kai Kosru's head 
That whirls in anguish on his rapid wheeL 15 

When I shall find me at the feet of Death, 

And birdlike all my plumage scattereth, 

Make naught but wine jars from my clay, perchance 
The wine's sweet odor may restore my breath* 

The potter deftly shapes his yielding clay, 
But knead and mould it with what skill he may, 
Little he thinks it once of human kind, — 
The earth he mangles in his humor gay I 

Again into the potter's shop I strayed 
Where jars and pots a-many were displayed, 
And all cried out, u where is the potter now, 
And those who bought and sold, where are they laid ?" 

34 






THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



I saw a potter at his work to-day f 
Shaping with rudest hand his whirling clay, — 
"Ah, gently, brother, do not treat me thus, 
I too was once a man," I heard it say* 

Canst tell how many lives their way will wind ? 

The soul will vainly try its clay to find 

When judgment calls, for this poor skull, the seat 
Of joy and pain, the potter's heel will grind. 



<•%> 



35 



IV. 

Les plus desesperes sont les chants les plus beaux, 
Et fen sais d'immortels qui sont des purs sanglots ! 

—Alfred dt Musset. 



36 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




HE flowers upon the breeze their fragrance fling, 
The bulbul's notes within the thicket ring; 16 
But, come, recline where roses shed their leaves, 
The rose that once has blown must die with spring. 

This tufted mead is sprinkled with the rain 
With all its flowers which our senses chain, 

Ere long the flowers from our dust will spring, — 
Whose sight will they rejoice ? Ah, question vain ! 

The violets that by this river grow 
Spring from some lip here buried long ago, — 
Ah, tread thou lightly on this tender green, — 
Who sleepeth here so still thou ne'er wilt know* 

My manuscript of youth has yellow grown, 
The roses of my spring will soon be blown, 
The joyful bird of youth that hovered near, 
I know not whence it came, nor whither flown I 

37 






"THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



This " wheel of heaven," in its fatal play, 
Will soon our breath of being steal away ; 

Come, rest thee on this bank, for from our dust 
Will spring the verdure at no distant day* 

The place where you a bed of tulips seek 
Did erstwhile with the blood of Bahram 17 reek, 
And every purple leaf the violet bears 
Was once a mole on some fair maiden's cheek* 

Ah, spirit mine, your life is filled with sorrow, 
A respite from your toil you ne'er can borrow ; 
I know not why you animate this clay, 
Since you must leave forever on the morrow* 

O, that to heaven's control I might aspire 

And sweep away this universe entire, 

And from the ruins build another world, 

Where man might sometimes reach his heart's desire* 

38 



Prince, you will ask of me in vain, 

Whether they now are there or here, 
Unless it be with this refrain : 

"But where are the snows of yesteryear?" 



—Villon. 



39 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




BIRD upon the crumbling Walls of Tus 18 

Addressed the grinning skull of Kai Kaius, 
44 The rumbling of thy drums affrights no ears, 
Thy trumpets now are tarnished from disuse*" 

And there where Bahram 19 lived in wild carouse, 
The lion slept, now deer are wont to browse ; 

Though oft he followed them with bow and spear, 
They never will his final slumbers rouse* 

The world's a wayside inn for mankind made, 

Only a resting place of light and shade ; 

A board at which a thousand kings have supped, a tomb 
Wherein a thousand Bahram Gurs are laid* 

Yon crumbling palace, once with heaven vying, 
Where kings paid court, is now in ruin lying ; 
The ringdove haunts its desolated halls 
And domes, coo-coo, coo-coo, forever crying* 20 

40 



VL 

Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden 
And wail life's discords into careless ears ? 



—James Thompson, 



41 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




ENEATH the skies each mortal undergoes 
A thousand griefs, a thousand bitter woes, 
But still love reigns between the cup and flask 
And lip to lip pure blood between them flows* 

Night's robe is torn, and dawn will soon appear, 
So fill your cup and quaff the mellow cheer, 
How oft will rosy Dawn unveil her face 
When you and I shall be no longer here ? 

Ah, with what skill thy Maker's hand designed thee, 
And with what grace and loveliness combined thee ! 
But oft I wonder why he made thee fair, 
And then in this poor earthen home confined thee* 

Attune thy lute and seek the verdant plain, 
By graceful houris led, a laughing train; — 
How oft has heaven brought them into life 
And turned them back to lifeless cups again ! 

42 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



This vaulted heaven, a despot sore, 

Of all the problems that we ponder o'er, 

Not one has solved ; whene'er it finds a heart 
Distressed 'tis sure to add one sorrow more* 

Why heed unborn to-morrow's weal or woe ? 

Enjoy the hour, the morn we ne'er may know* 
To-morrow we may join that caravan 
That started seven thousand years ago* 21 

Ere we two lived were many nights and days, 
Long have the stars pursued their mighty ways, — 
But tread with lightest foot upon this dust, — 
'Twas once an eye that beamed with tender rays* 

Since Fate or Allah, love, doth use thee so, 
And since thy soul forever soon must go, 

Thy fleeting days among the roses spend, 
Ere long the roses from thy dust will grow* 

43 



VIL 

Es fiirchte die Gotter 
Das Menschengeschlecht, 
Sie halten die Herrschaft 
In ewigen Handen, 
Und Konnen sie brauchen, 
Wie's ihnen gefallt 



— Goethe. 



44 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




HATEVER is, by Fate was erst designed, 
The Maker now his labor has resigned, 
And all our striving can avail us naught, 
For all our acts were long ago defined 

Impotent puppets of the sky, we run 

As wills the Player till the game is done, 

And when the Player wearies of the sport 
He casts us into darkness one by one* 

Ah, do not think the skies our souls enthrall 
The griefs, the joys that to us mortals fall, 

Come not from thence, nor are they known to fate,- 
Heaven is far more helpless than us alL 

Upon this checkerboard of joys and woes 
The wretched puppet hither and thither goes, 
Until the mighty Player of the skies 
His plaything back in the casket throws. 

45 






THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Whatever laws the pen of Fate has traced 
For tears of man will never be erased ; 

Support thy ills, do not bemoan thy lot, 
Let all of Fate's decrees be boldly faced* 

Why strive to know the primal cause of all ? 

Enjoy the sweet and bravely drink the gall ; 
Upon this checkerboard of life, the dice 
We all must play, as they from heaven falL 

How long will reason's chains oppress my soul, 
What boots it whether one day or hundreds roll 
Above my head ? Come, fill the cup, my clay 
The potter soon will shape into a bowL 



46 



VHL 

Fais cet acte de foi dans PEternel G&nie 

De vouloir aujourd'hui ce qu'il veut aujourd'hui, 

Et laisse-toi porter par la Force Infinie* 



— B our get. 



47 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




AM as from Thy crucible I came, 
A base alloy, and conscious of my shame* 
Why should I strive my erring ways to mend ? 
'Tis Thine, Oh, Allah, and not mine the blame ! 

Thou hast prepared a way with many a snare 
And decked with many a prize to lure us there, 

And yet, Oh, God, 'tis said Thou wilt not spare 
The man whose footsteps stumble unaware* 

From all eternity 'twas known to One 
The sovereign wine-cup I should never shun, 
So, if I failed to drink this purple juice, 
God's vaunted prescience would be undone* 

'Twas Allah who engraved upon my clay 

The laws I was thereafter to obey; 

And will He cast me into raging fire 
Because my actions answer to His sway? 

48 






THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






The "tent of heaven" was long since raised, — 'twas then 
That nature's ways were hid from human ken ; 
Life's cup the everlasting Saki filled 
With millions of these bubbles called men* 

Last night I dreamed I met a sage who said : — 
" Doth e'er in sleep the rosebud lift its head ? 
Why sleep, for sleep is but akin to death, 
And thou shalt sleep enough when thou art dead?" 

Of those, who have the " long road " traveled o'er, 

Not one will bring the news of it, before 

Thou, too, must start on it, — mind thou depart 
Without regret, — thou shalt return no more* 

Why let thy sins of old torment thee so, 

What gain to thee from all this crushing woe ? [gressed 

KThe man who God's commandment ne'er trans- 
Can ne'er God's all-forgiving kindness know* 

49 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Why should thy soul with fears of God be fraught ? 

When He designed this world, to thee no thought 
He gave; thy hopes of heaven are not worth 
A moment's happiness at random caught* 

'Twas Thou who made us slaves to passion's sway, 
Although our Master we must ne'er obey, — 
But tell me this, how can we tip the jar 
And still not let its contents run away ? 

Ah, mulla, 22 though you loathe your fellows weak, 
From God alone will I forgiveness seek ; 

You boast that from the cup you e'er refrain, 
But are you free from sin ? speak, mulla, speak* 

Oh, thou who prateth oi hell's eternal fire, 
And threateneth the man who sins with anger dire, 
How canst thou pardon Omar's sins ; to God's 
Prerogative how darest thou aspire ? 

50 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






Lives there a man who keepeth each decree ? — 
And if I err 'tis writ Thou chastenest me. 

What! if I sin and in return Thou strikest, 
What is the difference between me and Thee ? 

When lost in chaos stars and skies shall be, 
My soul, released, will wing its flight to Thee, 
And it will ask, oh, God of righteousness, 
Why takest Thou the life Thou gavest me ? 

Till when these thoughts of what is Thine or mine ? 

Shall I my life to penitence resign ? 

I shall not know until my spirit flies 
Whether the life I live is mine or Thine* 

From faith to disbelief is but a breath, 
From doubt to faith, but one, the dervish saith, — 
So let us gaily pass our fleeting days, — 
A little while, then cometh the angel Death* 

5J 



IX. 

The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, 

Lets in new light through chinks that time has made* 

— Waller. 



52 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






HEN thee, my soul, in wine's strong chains I 
Who comes to thee upon the desert wind ? [bind, 
Who is this mighty being who without 
Is none the less the god within thee shrined ? 

The Mosque, the Kaaba, 'tis a prison cell, 
A chain the chimes that from the steeple swell, 
The rosary, the Mehrab, 23 and the Church 
Are, like the cross, all signs of slavery fell* 

Adina 24 is reserved for fast, but stay, 
Why should we put the cup and flask away ? 
I know the grape is then forbidden, — but 
Worship Omnipotence, and not the day* 

Oh, khajah, grant a single wish, I pray, 
Point out the road that leads to God, but, nay, — 
My steps have found the narrow path aright, 
And thou it is who wandereth from the way* 

53 



"THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 






And ye who lash my sins with pious hate, 
Who call me drunkard, rogue inveterate, 

Come, lead me straightway to the temple door 
Where dwells the Right, the All-compassionate* 

Sometimes to earthly things our thoughts we turn, 
Again we seize the Book some truth to learn ; 
Our lives are neither wholly good nor bad, — 
I can not think that we fore'er shall burn* 



<•%> 



54 






Le D&ste contcmple un pur je ne sais quoi, 

Lointain, par qui le monde, en s'ordonnant, com- 
Et le savant, qui rit de leur sainte demence, [mence ; 
Nomme son Dieu Nature et n'en fait qu'une loi, 

Ainsi roulent toujours, du neant aux idoles, 

Du blaspheme aux credo, les multitudes folles. 
Dieu n'est pas rien, mais Dieu n'est personne; il est Tout* 






— Sully Prudbomtne. 



55 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




HIS spirit which the universe contains 
Breathes in the rose and in the lion reigns, 
Although the outward forms may pass away, 
The spirit still remains, yes, still remains ! 

This universe is but a body old, 

Which doth the Right 25 as deathless spirit hold, 
While angels, elements and skies and men 
Are parts of One, whose laws the whole enfold. 

44 What may this changing panorama be ? " 

Ah, would that I could tell it all to thee, — 

'Tis something tossed up by the boundless vast 
That will return to that unfathomed sea. 

A mighty magic lantern show, the world 

Around the sun as candle swiftly whirled, 

While mortals are but phantom figures traced 
Upon the shade, forever onward hurled. 

56 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



At times Thou art concealed, and then anon 
Thy subtle essence castest Thou upon 

All things existent 'twixt the Fish and Moon,- 
Thou art the Player and the Looker-on* 

This universe is but a mantle worn, 
The Jehun 26 from our flooding tears is born, 
And hell a fire enkindled of our sins, 
And heaven a respite from our life forlorn. 



<4& 



57 



XL 

Cicco error, tempo avaro, ria fortuna, 

Sorda invidia, vil rabbia, iniquo zelo, 

Crudo cor, empio ingegno, strano ardire 
Non bastaranno a farmi Paria bruna, 

Non mi porrann' avanti gli occhi il velo, 

Non faran mai, ch' il mio bel sol non mire* 



— Giordano 'Bruno. 



55 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




THOU, ordainer of both wrong and right, 
Whatever is hath sprung from Thy own might, 
Since I am but a humble slave of Thine, 
My sins in wrath Thou never wilt requite* 

Allah no profit from my homage hath, 
And though I oft have strayed from virtue's path, 
'Twill matter not, He will forgive, I know, 
For He is quick to pardon, slow to wrath* 27 

The two and seventy wrangling sects contend 
And ever strive their crumbling creeds to mend, 
But I have cast them one and all away, 
And Thou, oh, Allah, art my only end* 

I am just as Thy hand my nature cast, 
'Mid blessings manifold my life has passed ; 

And now I fain would know if sins of mine 
Can overthrow Thy mercy at the last* 

59 



"THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



In vainly seeking Thee no rest we find. 

But in and out the labyrinth we wind, 

Though every tree and rock proclaims Thy name 
And work, our ears are deaf, our eyes are blind* 

The fears of death from our illusions rise, 

For death is but the door to Paradise, 

The breath of Jesus hath revived my soul, 28 
The tales of everlasting death are lies* 

Oh, Allah, grant my wounded heart Thy rest ; 
Be merciful unto my grief-torn breast ; 

Forgive these feet that bring me to the inn ; 

Forgive this hand that takes the vine's bequest 29 






Unlock the door, Oh, Allah, — Thine is the key, 

Thy hand reach forth and deign to succor me ; 

To human aid I will not trust myself, 

For all will perish, saving only Thee* 



60 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



What man believes that He who made the vase 
Will some time shatter it in anger base ? 

The Maker of these poor misguided men 
Will surely not in wrath His works efface. 



<*& 






61 






XIL 



What exquisite folly to build innumerable worlds ! 
To measure the sun, the moon and the stars as with a 
rule! To name the cause of the lightning, of the 
tempests, of eclipses, and of all inexplicable things! 



— Erasmus. 



62 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 










ITHIN the maze of human faith and doubt, 
I erstwhile loved to wander round about, 
But no one have I met the way to show, 
And through the entrance door I passed without* 

For three score years Pve listened to the strife 
And endless wrangling in the school of life 

About this world and that to come, and learned, — 
That all our schemes with errors base were rife. 






With Aristotle wise you may contend, 

And Caesar's power may e'en transcend, 

But drink the mellow wine from Jamshid's cup, — 3 ° 
Though Bahrain's self the tomb would be your end* 

In singing, wine and rose my moments glide ; 

Ah, faithful devotee, you boast with pride, 

That Wisdom is your only master here, — 

But know you that myself was Wisdom's guide ? 31 

63 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



With nature's secrets be thou not perplexed ; 

Enjoy this world and do not fear the next ; 

Ah, grasp this little breath of life as cash, — 
With that to come, let not thy heart be vexed 

A bull there is named Parwin 32 in the skies, 

A second underneath this footstool lies, 

A drove of asses two great bulls between 

This swarm of mortals seems to Wisdom's eyes. 

And of the wise, endowed with wit and learning, 
And styled by men, "bright torch of wisdom burning," 
Not one has passed a step beyond the darkness, — 
They mused a while, then left, to sleep returning* 

When first I saw this world of joy and pain, 

Assailed by doubts that ever will remain, 

I wondered what it meant to live, to die, — 
The question oft I pondered, but in vain. 

64 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Within the labyrinth of human creeds 
Of truth and wisdom I have sought the seeds, 
By fairest flowers lured to venture on, 
I ne'er have gathered aught but worthless weeds* 

In earth's dark bosom myriads of the best 
That she has known, disheartened in their quest 
For truth, are sleeping, and the waste of naught 
Is thronged with those to come, and those at rest. 

The ways of God are veiled from human ken, 
Yes, night and day, 'tis three score years and ten 
That I have pondered o'er them, but in vain, 
My doubts have ne'er been cleared by tongue or pen. 

A host of men was struggling in the snare 
Of speculation on the Whence and Where, 

When suddenly a voice cried out : u Oh, fools, 
Your road lies neither here nor there ! " 



65 






THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



In youth my thoughts on wisdom e'er were bent 

And with my learning was I well content, 

Until a whisper reached me from the waste : — 
"From the dust I came, and into the wind I went/' 

Our life glides on apace ; we soon shall swell 
The ranks of those who in Death's kingdom dwell, 
And of them all, not one has e'er returned 
The secrets of that peaceful realm to telL 



<•%> 



m 



X1IL 

La vie est ainsi faite, il nous la faut subir, 

Le faible souffre et pleure, et 1'insense s'irrite; 
Mais le plus sage en rit, sachant qu'il doit mourir* 
Rentre au tombeau muet ou 1'homme enfin s'abrite, 
Et la sans nul souci de la terre et du del, 
Repose 6 malheureux, pour le temps eternel 1 

— Leconte cU Lislt. 



67 






THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




\ F those to come but knew the pain, the fear 
That mankind suffers in this valley drear. 
Where each one is a plaything of the sky, 
Methinks that they would never venture here* 

From birth we all are destined for the tomb, — 

The rose has but a little time to bloom; 

But what is life, this soul-confusing draught, 
That man will drink until the crack of doom ? 

What eye can see behind the veil of fate ; 

What man can nature's secrets penetrate ? 

Although our life is but a journey brief, — 
Would that we might its pace accelerate ! 

With sure destruction are Fate's arrows fraught; 

Nor can this worldly wealth avail thee aught ; 
The more I ponder on this world, I see, 
The Good is good, and all the rest is naught, 

68 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



What profit from our coming and our going ; 

And from the seed of hope that we are sowing? 

Where now are those who lived and passed away? — 
Their whereabouts transcends all human knowing. 

This world, a halting place of but a day, 

Is filled with irksome duty while we stay; 
And leaving life's problems all unsolved, 
Our hearts harassed with doubt, we go our way. 

My spirit chafes beneath the body's weight, 
And often yearns to break its prisoned state; 
Were I to leave this narrow cell for aye, 
What statute, prithee, would I violate ? 

When we depart, the world will be the same ; 

Chaotic darkness reigned not ere we came; 
Our coming and our going matter not, 
And we shall leave behind nor trace, nor name. 

69 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Love, Oh that God would build His world anew, 
While aught of life remains to me and you, 
And that He would our names obliterate, 
Or show more mercy, be more generous, too ! 

Your life, with each return of night and day, 
Grows less; cast not the fleeting hours away, 
For many days and many nights will come 
When you and I have turned to lifeless clay* 

Would that my soul might leave its earthen home, 
And wing its flight through heaven's mighty dome I 
What shame, what shame to feel itself confined 
Within a tenement of basest loam ! 

Ah, brother, but a little while and thou shalt find 

Eternal rest, the secret veil behind ; 

Rejoice thy heart and banish grief, for know — 
Thy source, thy goal, has never been divined* 

70 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 



Forget the day old Time has ta'en from thee ; 

And of the future days from fear be free ; 

Regret not that to come, nor that now passed, 
Lose not to-day, though bright it may not be. 

A few short, fleeting days, our life flies fast, 

'Tis gone, it flies as flies the desert blast, 

But yet there are two days of neither joy 

Nor pain, the day to come, the day now passed* 

Creation dawned, and shaped of basest clay 
Appeared a creature on the earth to stay 

A little while, — for Death, the angel, called, 

And, all unheeded, Adam stole away* 

Ah, but a little while and we shall creep 
To join our fellows in their dreamless sleep, 

But drink your wine, — for those unborn, who must 
Hereafter come, can we forbear to weep? 



XIV, 

44 Come, Death, but quickly come and still, 
All sound of thine approach restrain, 
Lest joy of thee my heart should fill 
And turn it back to life again/* 



— Escriva. 



72 



THE STANZAS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 




HAYYAM, your body is a tent, your soul 
A sultan destined to an unknown goal ; 
The dread ferrash of doom destroys the tent 
The moment when the sultan's summons toll* 33 

Khayyam, who stitched the tents of wisdom's lore, 
Is fallen in the pit and covered o'er ; 

Death's shears have cut the tent-ropes of his life ; 

The world has cast him out as worthless store* 34 



<•%> 



73 



NOTES 






NOTES- 



U Kai-Kosru, the second king* of the Kaian dyn- 
asty* was regarded as a demigod by the Iranians* 

2* Tus* an uncle of Kai Kaius* who was successor 
to Kobad* founder of the Kaian dynasty* 
Khajah* an orthodox Mussulman* 

3* Kisai* one of the earlier Persian poets* has a some- 
what similar quatrain* which may be trans- 
lated*^ — 

The rose is a gift from Eden's bower* 

Our minds in the garden grow nobler far; 

"Why does the rose-dealer sell his flower? 
What is more precious than roses are? 

4* Daughter of the Vine* a favorite simile with the 
Iranian poets* Safci* the Persian word for cup- 
bearer* 

5* A satire on the Mohammedan paradise. Koran* 
LVL "Youths* which shall continue in their 
bloom forever* shall go round about to attend 
them with goblets and beakers and a cup of 
flowing wine; their heads shall not ache by 

75 



NOTES 

drinking: the same, neither shall their reason be 
disturbed, and with fruits of the sorts which they 
shall choose, and the flesh of the birds they shall 
desire, and there shall accompany them fair 
damsels, having* large black eyes resembling: 
pearls in their shells, as a reward for that which 
they have wrought" 

6* Ramazan, the ninth Arabic month, is devoted to 
fasting ; Shawwal, the tenth month* 

7. Balkh and Nishapur are two towns in Khorasan* 

8* According to the Persians, humanity is divided 
into seventy-two sects* 

9* Copper drinking vessels with verses in praise of 
wine engraved on the rim are common in Persia* 

JO* The five senses and the four elements* 

U* From Mah to Mahi, from fish to moon, i* e*, 
between the fish which supports the bull, that, 
according to Persian cosmogony, bears the earth 
on one of his horns, and the moon ; the saying:, 
which is equivalent to the expression 4 everything: 
in the universe/ is common with the Iranians* 

12* Tyr and Dai, April and December, two months of 
the Solar year, according to the calendar used by 
the Iranians before Islam* Jamshid was the fifth 

76 



NOTES 

king of the mythical Peshdadian dynasty. His 
real name was Jam, which means ' king/ Shid 
was added on account of the beauty of his person 
and of his brilliant deeds* He is said to have 
been the founder of Persepolis* and the invention 
of wine is* by some Persian historians* attributed 
to him* 

13* Koran* Chapter XX** entitled T* H* ; Exodus* IV** 
6; the branches becoming white with buds in 
spring* are compared with Moses' hand* ' Leprous 



14* This stanza is not unlike Shakespeare's t — 

Imperial Caesar* dead and turned to clay* 
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away* 
O* that that earth which kept the world in awe, 
Should patch a wall t* expel the winter's flaw* 

15* Feridun was the second king of the second* or 
Peshdadian dynasty* By the Persians he was 
regarded as a hero and a model to be copied by 
all potentates* Almost all the Iranian poets have 
sung his valor, liberality and justice* 

16* The Bulbul, the nightingale* 

17* Bahram Gur. a member of the family of the Sas- 
sanides* 

77 



NOTES 

i 8* Tus* a town in Persia* 

19* Bahram Gur* the name Gur* which means wild 
ass f was given him on account of his fondness for 
hunting that animal, a passion which cost him 
his life* The word Gur* which also means tomb f 
gives the original a force which is lost in English* 

20* The last line loses something in English* the Per- 
sian word hu being an abbreviation of kuja f 
where* 

21* According to Iranian cosmography, the world* at 
that time* was seven thousand years old* 

22* Mulla* a schoolmaster* a doctor* 

23* Mehrab* a chair placed in mosques and always 
turned toward the East* 

24. Adina is the Mussulman Friday* 

25* Hafcfc. the Arabic word for truth, justice* right, is 
one of the " ninety and nine " names of Allah* 
Al-Hakk,' the Truth/ 

26* The Jehun* the Oxus* 

27* Heine put it less devoutly: Dieu me perdonnera* 
c'est son metier* 

78 



NOTES 

28* The Mohammedans in general admit the miracles 
of Jesus Christ, attributing to him the power of 
resuscitating the dead with his breath* They, 
however, place him below Mohammed* The 
Sufis place him on an equality with God, regard- 
ing him as a Sufi who had attained the degree of 
the Supreme Beatitude, and, consequently, hav- 
ing the power of performing all miracles* 

29* According to M* Nicolas, a satire on the day of 
judgment, the poet, by this prayer in favor of 
his different members, calling to mind that God 
has nothing to accord, and nothing for which to 
pardon matter which becomes inert after its 
separation from the soul, which again enters, the 
Sufis say, into the Divine Essence* 

30* The cup of Jam occupies a place in Persian poetry 
similar to that of the Holy Grail in mediaeval 
romances* 

31* Referring to his scientific achievements* 

32* Parwin, the Pleiades* 

33* Ferrash, a Persian body servant who accompanies 
his master on journeys, setting up the tent, etc* 

34* A quaint quatrain referring to his poetical pseu- 
donym, 4 the Tentmaker/ 

79 



A 















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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: July 2007 

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